Return of the Mayor
The following takes place following: Are We The Baddies?
TRAVERS DECLARES “TOTAL VICTORY” OVER SUPER FLU AS WIDDICOMBE MOURNS
By Clara Bellwright, Senior Staff Correspondent, THE WALDONIAN
After more than a month’s absence, Mayor Harris Travers re-emerged yesterday to deliver his first public address since the outbreak of the so-called "Super Flu", praising the city’s response while brushing aside questions about his own disappearance during the height of the crisis.
Appearing on the front steps of Widdlington Town Hall, Travers hailed “the magnificent coordination between the Masters Council, city leadership, and—ultimately—myself, Mayor Travers, National Treasure” in bringing the outbreak under control. “Thanks to my decision to lockdown, albeit against my natural libertarian inclinations, we flattened the curve,” he said. “And with the help of our friends at the Masters Council, the vaccine stopped this vicious virus in its tracks.”
No new cases have been reported in over a week. The citywide vaccination drive, now in its fourth week, has reached an estimated 77% uptake among eligible residents.
But the mayor’s victory lap was shadowed by contradictions.
When asked how he was faring personally, and whether he himself had recovered from illness, Travers boasted: “Travers’es never get sick.” This contradicted earlier claims by Town Hall that the mayor had contracted the Super Flu and was recovering in isolation. When pressed to clarify, he dismissed the line of questioning as “nosy” and accused the reporter of “asking out of turn.”
The mayor’s personal assistant, Kyle Konrad, was confirmed to have been infected. He spent two weeks in intensive care on a ventilator at St. Waldobury’s University Hospital and is now said to be recovering.
The outbreak began in the north eastern neighbourhood of Witherfield, before quickly spreading to the rest of Widdicombe with terrifying speed. Notably, however, Little Akiba on the far eastern edge, saw markedly fewer cases. Some speculate that the area’s largely ethnic Japanese population adopted masking and distancing protocols more swiftly than elsewhere.
Travers' initial hesitation to respond drew heavy criticism especially after he was spotted frequenting various gentlemen’s clubs around town while the JSM Hospital in northern Widdicombe was on the brink of collapse due to being overwhelmed with local cases. Under pressure from public health officials and reportedly his own Chief of Staff, Master Steven Devlin of the Masters Council, the mayor eventually authorised a full military lockdown of Widdicombe.
The move was divisive. Some hailed it as the moment the outbreak was contained. Others—particularly in Widdicombe—decried the quarantine as “a political abandonment,” reigniting long-standing tensions with the more affluent borough of Waldobury. Civil liberties campaigners have compared the lockdown to “the worst overreach since the Birdonia incident.”
Shortly after the lockdown was enacted, Mayor Travers appeared at the window of his Town Hall office in what many described as a disoriented or manic state, urging residents to “flee the city while they still could.” The incident, bizarre and widely circulated on social media, was followed by his abrupt disappearance from public view. Town Hall later attributed the episode to rehearsals for an experimental one-man theatrical adaptation—an explanation that did little to quell speculation—before claiming the mayor had fallen ill with the flu.
Meanwhile, despite the largely successful rollout and uptake, suspicions around the vaccine continue to simmer. While seemingly effective, its opaque composition and the Masters Council’s refusal to publish research data have led to widespread conspiracy theories: that the injections contained emotional dampening agents, covert municipal loyalty trackers, or even trace amounts of lithium to "calm dissent." City health officials have declined to comment.
Disagreement also persists over the nature of the Super Flu itself. Some claim it was an unusually engineered hybrid of HIV and Swine Flu. Others insist it was never viral at all—pointing instead to possible radiation leaks from decommissioned infrastructure in Witherfield. No conclusive forensic profile has yet been released.
What is clear, however, is the scale of devastation.
2,147 dead, almost all of them from Widdicombe. The Widdlington Health Service reduced to field tents, caravans, and borrowed halls. A mass grave now lines the eastern boundary, its name whispered and bitter: Platt Cemetery named after patient zero, David Platt who was running for mayor against Travers.
Though the outbreak barely touched the rest of the city beyond scattered cases, its effects reverberate. Survivor’s guilt. Distrust. A generation of orphans raised in wards and spare rooms. Widdicombians speak of abandonment; others speak of necessary sacrifice.
The mayor may be back. The streets may be returning to motion. But for Widdicombe, recovery is not measured in weeks or vaccination rates. It is measured in the names missing from post, pew, and pavement. And no speech—not even a triumphant one—can quite account for those.
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Travers puts down the paper on his desk with a satisfied smirk.
Travers: Travers, you sly old fox... you've done it again.
The Master raises a curious eyebrow, uncertain whether Travers actually read the article—or simply the version in his head, celebrating his own triumph.
Season 6 continues in Traverscast